Destiny's Eternal Love
by Cereta
Summary: This is a story of Love. Love of old and new. Love that cannot ever be forgotten. Though times may be cruel and full of hardships, love can and always will be found. Love is everywhere and everything...
1. Alone In Darkness

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" original plot, nor its famous characters. Although soon you will read of new ones that are of my own creation._

**A/N:** _For those of you have already started to read my story, I have been doing some re-editing. It is still the same story, just fixed up more to my liking. I also found a few kinks that needed to be fixed. For any new readers, enjoy._

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**Chapter One**

**Alone In Darkness**

_**Just after Christine Daae fled with Raoul de Chagny, away from Erik's home within the Opera Populaire's cellars.**_

The glass shattered. The cloth fell behind him, covering the hole to a hidden tunnel to which he had just entered. Erik had just lost the only thing in which he had ever cared for. No! Ever loved. Christine, she left him, and was now gone, out of his life forever.

As Erik progressed down the cold, dark hallway he could hear the sounds of the mob just now entering his home. As strong as he was, he knew he could not over-power them all. Fleeing was his only option, so he continued walking. He kept walking even as he saw a small gleam of light appeared up ahead. He kept walking even as he came out onto the streets of Paris and all the while lost in his own thoughts. _I will never see my Angel again. My Angel is gone. My soul is gone. How am I to go on? How am I, this creature of darkness, going to survive?_

"I have nothing left." He muttered to himself. "Christine was my only real means of living. Her life, her soul, _was_ me. And now that she is gone..." He choked on his own words.

Emptiness and loneliness was all he could feel. He was now alone in the world once again. Erik had literally nothing left. The few material belongings that he owned were back in those cellars. Those cellars that were now over-runned by a mob that would surely kill him if he returned.

He felt naked walking down the streets now with nothing and no one. A sudden breeze brushed against his face.

"My mask!" He suddenly remembered. He had left it back within his home at the opera.

Afraid of someone seeing his abhorric face, he darted into an alley. He shuddered. Without his mask he now truely felt naked. He feared that if someone saw his face that they would scream at the sight of him and oh how he hated to hear them scream. Their screams would echo through his entire body constantly reminding him of how hideous he looked.

"But not _her_. Not Christine." Erik wept.

Christine was able to look into his face. Not once had she screamed, terrified at times, yes, but never screamed. She was the only living being whose voice never shattered his heart because of his face, she never spat words of disgust to him. She only saw him as a man, as a human being, not a 'thing' as so many had called him.

A memory flashed into his mind. _No. Chistine was not the only one. There had been another, two as a matter of fact and they were both women. _Women of course being the worst to hear scream. Still, there had been two. One of them being the first to ever show him kindness. Protecting him from the world of cruelties. She had been the one who had first introduced him to what he learned to call 'home'. This woman was the one who had brought Christine into his life when her father had died. Madame Giry. She was one who he allowed himself to call a 'friend'. She who he could trust in.

"Can I still trust her? Will she still be kind to me?" He asked himself quietly.

He still sat there motionless, so as not to catch any eyes. Sitting on the cold cobblestone of the alley, he contemplated to himself on what to do next.

"Pathetic! How is it that I came to be like this? Dragged down by a silly child. No! Destroyed. She has destroyed me." He was argueing with himself now. Rage began to block out all positive thoughts, rage and hatred.

"I was a fool to think that anyone could actually love _me_. Well never again. I will not let a thing such as _love_ pull me down."

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**A/N:** Y_ou will notice these first few chapters will be a wee bit short. Do not fret. The chapters grow longer as the story continues to progress. I promise. Please review._


	2. Upon Returning Home

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" original plot, nor its famous characters. Although soon you will read of new ones that are of my own creation._

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**Chapter Two**

**Upon Returning Home**

As Erik continued to sift through thought after thought in his head the first small haze of sunlight began to show itself over the horizon. How long had he been sitting there? Huddling in that most uncomfortable alley? Even though the sun was awakening the city still was peacefully asleep.

"Paris always was late getting up on Saturdays." Erik mused to himself.

Standing up, Erik decided to take this opportunity to find a more suitable hiding spot.

"Perhaps that damn mob has left my home by now? Maybe I can get in there long enough to gather things of importance?"

Making up his mind, Erik, as swift as the ghost he had been known to be, made his way back into the cellars of the Opera Populaire. It didn't take him long as he now stood at the shattered mirror of which he had escaped earlier. Carefully he listened for any signs of danger.

Nothing but the darkness met his ears.

Slowly drawing the curtain he peered into the dark room. Still there was no sign of anyone else about. Erik walked through careful so as not to cut himself on a few jagged pieces of glass still attached to the frame. All around him there was darkness except for a small shimmer that seemed to be coming from around the corner up near Christine's old bedroom. He shuddered just thinking about her. He gracefully moved towards the light, making sure not to trip on anything that was obviously scattered about on the floor.

Erik found a small torch still clinging to life.

"Probably left behind by those intruders." He stated angrily.

Erik quickly set to lighting a few candles and once again light was brought back into his home. Although what Erik now saw made him curse loudly. The mob had completely destroyed his once beautiful home. Papers were thrown and scorched in all directions. Curtains that once hung elegantly on the walls torn to shreds upon the floor. His prized organ looked as though hammers were taken to it. Even the furniture wasn't able to escape from the mobs wrath. All of it was broken and torched.

"And they called me a destructive monster." He snapped.

While shuffling through all the debre, Erik had come across a few intact possessions. Two masks, still in good shape. Enough articles of clothing to last a short while. He found a large enough piece of curtain fabric to use to carry these things. He ignored the pictures he had drawn of Christine that he left strewn about on the floor along with many sheets of music. _What use would they come of anyways? _He thought this when he came across anything of that reminded him of Christine. Christine may have been his inspiration for music, but music was still too much a part of him to forget. He would have to start over, find something new to be his muse, never would he allow another to enter his damdaged soul like Christine had.

As Erik finally shifted through the last of the remains he knew that there was only one thing left that he most desprately needed. A box that he had always kept hidden. Hidden safe in a place where no one but him knew existed. Erik walked over to his ruined organ and knealt down. Gently fingering for the secret trigger that opened a stone in the floor. Reaching into the hole Erik pulled out a wooden box. He opened the box to reveal a heaping mound of money that he had been collecting from the managers of the Opera for many years now.

"With this it will be easy to start my new life. A new life alone where no one can hurt me ever again."

Closing his eyes he bowed his head. A quiet sadness crept over him. _Alone._ He had been alone for as long as he could remember. He didn't want to be alone anymore. But what choice did he have now. Erik stood up and took a long deep breath.

"Well this is the last of it." He said as he looked around himself.

He doused the candles, picked up his few belongings and headed for a tunnel which lead up to the Opera.


	3. Farewell To An Old Friend

**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" original plot, nor its famous characters. Although soon you will read of new ones that are of my own creation._

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**Chapter Three**

**Farewell To An Old Freind**

He put on a mask and headed up the hallway and through several trap doors. Everything smelt burnt and everything was eerily quiet, but he was used to its solitary feeling. As Erik made his way around the opera house he noticed all too much how terribly destroyed all its splendor had become. The once beautiful marble walls and ceilings, along with the majestic statues, were all covered in ash and soot. The stage, once the center of all attention, now scorched to a crisp. It was all gone.

"Because of me." His eyes watered and his voice took on a sorrowful note. "What have I done? I ruined their home, so they, in return, ransacked mine." Erik looked down in revulsion. "In my anger I destroyed so much, lost so much. I sacrificed years in the building of this marvelous structure, only to in one night ravage it of its glory..."

"Erik?"

As fast as one could blink, Erik spun around in the direction of the feminine voice that was choked with sadness.

Stepping out from beside a fallen column was Madame Giry. "Erik, what are you doing here?" Her voice was weak and hoarse. It was apparent that she had been crying for some time.

"I, um... I came here, actually, to look for you." He stopped speaking when her face turned to a mix of anger and grief. He sighed and bowed his head. It was too painful to look into her condemning stare. "Perhaps I should just go..."

She reached out and desperately grabbed him by his sleeve. "No! You came to look for me? Why? I thought you would have been long gone by now." Her voice trembled and she bit her lip. Slowly she released him.

He faced her reluctantly, trying to build up his courage. Squaring his shoulders, he looked her in the eyes. "I did leave. I had to come back, but only to gather what few belongings I managed to save. And, I wanted to... I needed to make sure you got out, that you and Meg were alright."

It was tearing him apart to look at her, the guilt was flooding his heart. "I'm sorry. I'm so sincerely..."

She raised her hand in a quick motion for him to stop speaking. She knew what he was trying to say and knew how hard it must be for him to voice those words outloud.

"Erik." She sighed. "You have done something very terrible, and I know what your trying to say, what you think you need to say. But... but there's nothing that can be done about any of it now." She took a deep breath and continued. "What's done is unfortunately done, however terrible it was. Nothing can change what has passed. I will not lie to you, I am deeply upset and disappointed with you.. But not all of it was completely your fault. I know that may sound awkward, but it is true. You obviously have trouble controlling your anger, due to the life you have been forced to live, and she knew it as well. I was shocked by Christine did what she did to you, and infront of all those people."

Her eyes glazed over as she once again saw that terrible scene play out within her mind. She took a shuddering breath and pulled out of her reverie.

"But, then again, at the same time she was confused and somewhat frightened herself. I feel as though that after she had pulled your mask off she had regreted it. All of it. For deceaving you, and... Oh." A tear rolled down her cheek. "She only did what she felt she needed to do. What the Viscount had made her think she had to do. She was trying to show you that you..."

Erik cut her off. He always hated it when she tried to tell him what he already knew.

"Don't! I know why she did it. And I don't want to hear of her ever again." He couldn't bare to listen anymore. He couldn't stand feeling Antoinette's eyes on him any longer, reminding him of what he had done. "I must go."

As he turned to go Madame Giry called out. "I told him how to find you!"

He halted. "What?" But before he even had to hear her answer, he instintly knew what she meant.

"The Vicount." She answered.

Erik shut his eyes. His stomach churned with sickness and hatred. He turned back around and glared at the Giry woman only to see her face filled with more tears.

She continued, not giving him a chance to voice his indignation. "He came to me right after you took Christine. He begged me to tell him where you had taken her. The desperation in his eyes, it broke me. I felt as though I had no choice. He loved Christine, Erik, and even though I knew you would never hurt her, I still feared for her." She silenced herself, afraid to say anymore.

The hatred was growing in him. He backed away from her causiously, afraid that his anger would make him do even further damage than he had already caused. "So. It was you who showed him how to find me." His voice was low and dark.

She nodded numbly, a sob escaped her lips. "And I know now that if I had not that... well, Christine might of stayed with you." Antionette Giry could not stop her tears, despite how much she tried.

"No." He spat out too quickly. He paused and looked down. "I would have let her go either way. I knew she would always love and yearn for that foolish boy. But pity, as well as hate would be what she felt for me. It would only of been a matter of time. You can not hide a flower from the sunlight, it will only wither and die miserably." His own eyes now began to glaze over with tears, but he fought them back.

"Christine did not hate you, Erik. She was just confused, so very confused. A young child torn between two men that she loved dearly. I can not imagine what must have been going through both of your rminds, but I do know that she did feel love for..."

"And how could you possibly know that!" His eyes burned like fire, glaring at her.

Fear creeped its way down Antoinette's spine.

"Did she tell you? Did she confess to you her _true_ feelings!" He looked abruptly away from her once more, trying is hardest to calm his nerves. It was not her that he was mad at. Why take is anger out on the poor woman he considered a friend?

Taking a deep breath, he turned and apologized. "Forgive me, I did not mean to raise my voice. I really must go now, though."

"Where will you go?" She wiped her tears, willing her own nerves to calm. She knew that Erik could never hurt her, she thought it foolish that she even became frightened.

They stood before each other now, calm friends.

"I'm not too sure. I have collected a decent amount of money over the years and will use it to start my new life. A life away from all of this, since of course it is too dangerous for me to stay." Erik looked up at the ruined stage. "It will be a long time before any of this can be forgotten."

Madame Giry nodded, taking a step closer to her friend. "This new life, will be a peaceful one I hope?" She smiled, hoping that it would. She wished that Erik could live the life he deserved.

"I truely hope so." Erik paused for a moment, then looked up as though a memory had come back to him suddenly. "I knew a family once that lived in a small town just south of here. They were very kind to me. It has been quite a few years now since I have last been there, but... if they are still there, perhaps they will accept me back. If not, I will probably just stay there either way." A small smile came across his face. "I really did love that town, it was so peaceful and quiet. And the people there, well... It will be easier to live there. I can not believe that I had fogotten them. We were so close, I had actually considered them in some small way as family. Yes, I will return there."

Madame Giry felt better now, her emotions towards Erik had changed considerably just within the past few minutes. Her smile grew as he explained where he would live now. "You just make sure to take care of yourself."

Erik nodded, but his slight smile fell into a frown as looked around the crumpled opera. "Yes. But what about you? This place was your home. And..."

Once more she shushed him. "Do not you worry about me. Do you not remember? I have a small townhouse here within Paris. And it's just our luck that lately I have been saving money. So, Meg and I, we will be just fine."

"Very well. But here, I would like you to have something." Erik fumbled with pulling a small brown leather pouch out of his pocket and placed it in her hands. "It is not much, but I hope it will help some."

Antionette opened the bag to find at least two thousand francs inside. Her jaw dropped as she looked back up at Erik. "I can not accept this, you will need this more than I will." She tried to hand the bag back but he only resisted.

"No. Please keep it. Give me that much." His eyes pleaded her to take it.

"As you wish.."

"Good. One more thing." Bending down to his sack, he took out his precious music box and carefully forced it into her arms. "You know how much this box means to me, so I know you will take special care of it."

More tears fell down her flushed cheeks. "Oh, Erik. I will cherish it." She sobbed as she held the box closer, craddling it as if it were a fragile infant.

A silent moment seemed to of spread between the two till Madame Giry broke it with her weak, but steady voice.

"So this is good bye then?"

"So it would seem.."

The air between them became heavy with sadness, goodbyes were never easy for either of them.

"Will I ever get to see you again? Would you come back and visit us someday?" Her eyes were hopeful.

"Maybe. Once things settle down I don't see why not. When I am situated I will write to you at your home, letting you know how things are."

"That would be nice."

Madame Giry held out her small hand and Erik gently took it in his much larger one. They shook hands for the final time till the time came when they would meet each other again.

"Good bye then, Erik."

They both smiled, one last smile.

"Good bye, Madame Giry."

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**A/N:** _Good? Oh I hope so. I re-wrote this one again, much more to my liking this time. I felt that the way I first wrote it was too dull, and did not express what I wanted to reveal. Reviews are welcome._


	4. The New Life

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" original plot, nor its famous characters. Although soon you will read of new ones that are of my own creation._

**A/N**_: I wrote this and the next few chapters while I was away on vacation in Canada last year. My mind hardly ever turns off, so it is constintly coming up with more and more words, sentences, paragraphs, that leads to new chapters. I really hope you have enjoyed them and continue to do so._

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**Chapter Four**

**The New Life**

_**Gien, France. Six months after Erik set out from Paris.**_

_**x** Gien, France is a small town located 96 miles south of Paris **x**_

A man with a créme colored cotton cloak, leather boots, tan skin, and dust covering him from head to toe, rode on his black stallion, trotting by two women standing by an outdoor cafe. The women paused and eyed the peculiar foreigner as he passed by them and turned the corner, then they went back to their conversation.

"Marie, have you heard about the newcomer? They say that he has come from Paris. It seems that many people are leaving that place since the rumors of a war started up."

"Yes, I have, Janette. I actually saw the man, very mysterious he was. Very tall, and, my goodness, his body was very manly." She mocked fanning herself to prove her point.

"Oh really?" Janette giggled.

"Yes. He was dreamy almost, but I didn't get a good look at his face though." Marie frowned.

"Pity."

"He never really came out from the shadows as he walked. Almost as if he was trying to hide himself."

"Strange." Marie brushed her hair back from her face. "So, what do you think he is doing here in Gien, Marie?"

"Well, I overheard that he bought the old Fortiér house on the outskirts of town. You know the one, its very secluded, lies on the borders of the forest. The simple, cottage style home. A small family could live in its decent size. But not anymore. He apparently had it renovated and redesigned. Now its more like a mansion."

"I thought they were going to tear that old home down? With all the tales of it being haunted by ghosts, no one had ever come around to purchasing it." Marie shuddered. She had always found that place to be dreadfully eerie.

"Well, apparently he made a very generous offer to keep it up. Now, along with fixing up the place, he hired a small staff of foreigners to help manage it."

"Really? He must be rich if he could afford a house and staff." Marie smiled at the thought of a new, single, rich man moving into their town. "Who do you suppose he is, Janette? Did anyone arrive with him, or is he by himself?"

"My guess is, Marie, that he is a man from some noble wealthy family just looking for a quiet place to settle down."

"Well, whoever he is, he is definately rich. And lonely, rich men need good women to take care of them." Marie smoothed her hands down her skirts.

"Oh, but of course, well, if I see a good woman, I will inform the man of where he may acquire one." Janette snickered.

Marie blushed a furious red. "Janette, if you were not the wife of my brother, I would give you a well-deserved blow to the face. That was a rude insult. You could break a woman's pride with that one."

Janette laughed and hugged her sister-in-law. "You know how I love to tease you, Marie. Do not take it so seriously. If you are that desperate for a man, I suggest you take your time with this particular one. If you come on to him too quickly, you will surely scare him off."

Marie flashed a dazzling smile. "Have you so little faith in me? I will have him wrapped around my finger within the month."

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The doorbell rang, followed by a knock at the large oak front doors. One of the house's newest servants answered the door. The servant, Emareth, saw standing in the doorway a man, probably in his mid-twenties, of an ethnic background, and was well dressed. Looking behind the mna, was a majestic black stallion standing in the front yard, nibbling on the fresh green apples right out of the tree.

"May I help you, Sir? And is that your horse that is eating my masters fruit?" Her voice was calm and soft, but the light reprimand could still be heard.

Turning to look over his shoulder, he let out a small curse beneath his breath. "Yes. I'm so sorry. One moment, please." The young man ran down to his horse. Scolding the stallion, he pulled on its rein and looked in vain for a spot to fasten him to.

"Wonderful work on embarrassing me, Kio. Simply brilliant." The foreigner muttered.

Emareth called into the home for assistance. Not but a second later a young boy, no more than eight years old, ran out and went to the man's side.

"I will take him, Sir. We have a stable around the back that we will hold him in until you are ready to leave."

"Thank you, lad." The man handed over the reins and the boy directed the horse around a corner and out of sight.

Walking back up to the front door, the man bowed in apology. "Forgive me, I am sorry about that, Miss."

She nodded her understanding.

The man took a small envelope out from his vest pocket and spoke. "I am looking for a..." The man looked at the letter in his hands. "Monsieur Erik Destler."

Emareth recognized the man's ethnic voice as Persian, his nationality akin to her own. "And why, would a man so far from his homeland, be looking for my master?"

The Persian smirked, her formal english was so well spoken that he hardly was able to notice the hidden persian accent. "My name is Pyrce Raquel. I have come to speak with Monsiuer Destler and give him this letter from an old friend of his."

Emareth cocked her head and studied at him closely. "Is he expecting you, Monsieur Raquel?" She wanted to know as much as she could attain, for the Master did not like to be disturbed without reason, and the rules of the home was 'No uninvited guests'.

"Well, I am not positive that he is. It all depends on if he had received a letter, oh, about a month ago I would say, telling him of my coming. But, if he did not receive it, then well, I guess he would not know I am here then now would he?"

She almost laughed. She had to admit that the man had a quick wit, but she still was not too sure on what to do now. The Master rarely ever received letters, but he _did_ get one last month. _Perhaps he is expected._ She thought to herself.

Making up her mind, she bent her head slightly. "Very well, come in." Emareth gestured for Pyrce to come inside as she stepped out of his way.

He nodded and offered another bow before he entered the house.

"Follow me please." She lead him down the hallway and then opened a wide mahogany door to a room, which once inside by noticing all of the books in the room, was obviously the library. "Please, make yourself comfortable and wait here while I go fetch my Master for you." She curtsied as she left the room, closing the doors behind her.

Pyrce took a seat and waited patiently. Alomst half an hour had gone by as Pyrce waited in the library when he heard the doors reopen. Pyrce stood up as a man of tall stature, six foot and perhaps three inches, jet black hair that was slicked back, and deep blue-green eyes that held an empty darkness to them. His façade well groomed, dressed in black slacks and a simple black vest over a white linen shirt, and polished black shoes. But the one article of clothing that the man donned, which Pyrce excpected to see, was a smooth white leather mask, perfect as it was mysterious. As Pyrce had been told, it covered the full right half of his face.

Pyrce stood his ground and extended his hand as the powerful man walked up to him.

Shaking his hand, the man spoke, his voice calm and even "You wished to see me, Monsieur Raquel? I apologize that you have had to wait so long, but please, make this quick, I have other business to attend to for the day." The man's voice seemed so perfect, it completed his superior image.

"Forgive me, Monsieur Destler. I have come on behalf of my father, Lamar Raquel. He, as I was told by him, was once an old colleague of yours."

Erik looked at Pyrce with serious eyes. "I am afraid that I do not know anyone by that name." It was obvious that the man's patience was growing thin. The lines on his forehead wrinkled to show his displeasure growing.

Pyrce knew he had to hurry with his reason for being there. "Well, Sir, that is because you did not know him as Lamar. He changed his name, his identity, many years back due to some troubles he found himself in. You would know him as Nadir Khan."

Erik's eyes flickered for only a second in recognition, but it was enough for Pyrce to notice so he continued on. "Lamar... Nadir last saw you almost six years ago. He heard of the unfortunate incident that occured six months ago at the Opera Populaire in Paris." Pyrce waited a brief moment to see if Erik were going to react.

When Erik only stared back, saying nothing, Pyrce went on. "Once he had heard news of the disappearace of the Opera's 'Ghost', he decided to track you down. He has a contact that still lives in Paris, a Madame Giry, who was kind enough to help him in finding your whereabouts. He told me that he had written to you several times within the past months, and when each time you did not reply, he came to the brilliant conclusion to send me here." He huffed a little sarcasm into his words. "He would have come himself, but..." He frowned slightly. "But he has fallen ill just recently. He gave me this letter to give to you."

At that Pyrce slid out the envelope from the inner pocket of his cloak and handed it over to Erik.

Erik sat down in a leather chair, motioning to Pyrce to do the same, and opened the envelope and began to read.

_"Erik,_

_Greetings old friend. As my son must have explained, I have to change my name, Lamar Raquel. Do you like it? I bet your wondering when I had another son, the years do not match the boy's age. I remarried some years ago, my wife already had a son whom I accepted lovingly as my own. We have been living happily together outside of Persia. The Shah has put a price on my head. Apparently after all these years, he found new evidence of my dealings with your escape. But it was to be expected I guess. Well, onto business now, shall we. _

_You have been ignoring my letters, Erik, why? After all that I have done for you you could not simply put at ease my worried thoughts by replying? Have you forgotten all the many times I have risked my neck to help you, that I am still at risk for you? That hurts, my friend. I only wished to know that you were alright. But now that I have found you, with the help of another old friend of ours, I feel as though it is time for you to repay the debt you owe me. _

_I'd be there in person to tell you all of this but I have grown ill, and I am afraid that this illness might not turn out for the better... _

_P.T.O._

_It took alot of convincing to get my son to go to you. With my sudden illness, my wife has taked to caring for me, and with work nowhere to be found in our home area, my son's only hope is you dear friend. I know that I can trust you to help the boy out. Pyrce is a fast, hardworking young man. As well as his wife, Sasha. He has little money, nowhere near enough to rent a safe home. So I ask that he stay with you. He will, of course, pay his own way and wont be a bother. Madame Giry told me of where you now live, so I know that there is plenty of room for himand his wife. You know you owe me my friend. I do not ask much. Not nearly as much as I should. But that would be too cold-hearted of me to ask for it all back in full. Pyrce, will only stay long enough to get on his own two feet._

_Oh, and one more thing, Erik. Do not be such a stranger, write me a bloody letter back once in a while._

_A word to the wise, old friend, if my son returns to me because you have turned him down, well, let's just hope that does not happen. Otherwise, I will have to send Madame Giry to have a few words with you. And you know how that woman always loved to reprimand us for even the smallest amount of nonsense. Farewell._

_Your good friend,_

_The Persian "_

Pyrce sat there, not moving an inch, while Erik read over the letter. He was not sure what to do as he saw Erik fold the letter back up and place it in his vest pocket. The room remained silent.

Erik gazed deeply into fireplace, its flames eating hungrily at the logs. The fire, the only light in the room for the sun was setting, danced on Erik's mask.

Pyrce watched him nervously. _What now? Will he let him stay or will he cast me out?_

Erik's commanding voice broke through Pyrces' thoughts.

"How old are you, Pyrce?" Erik adverted his eyes from the fire and looked at Pyrce with eyes that felt as though they were searching deep into his soul. Erik tried controlling the tone of his demanding and hasty voice.

"Twenty-five, Sir." His throat had gone dry, which made his voice sound hoarse. He coughed to clear it.

Erik mistook it for fear, he thought that he had scared the poor boy when he did not mean to. Erik sighed and took a breath and forced himself to calm himself. "You have a wife. Sasha. How old is she? Why is she not here with you now?" Erik had more control this time, his demanding voice, now soft and tranquil.

"Sasha is twenty-four. She would be here with me now, but we did not want to throw two people on your doorstep at once, despite my father's insistence. Instead, we prefered for me to only come and make sure everything would be alright."

Erik was pleased that they were so thoughtful. "So where is she then? With your father?"

Pyrce felt more relaxed about the conversation now that Erik had calmed. "No. She is staying with another one of your old friends that my father told me about. Madame Giry." Pyrce was cut off by a knock at the library doors.

"Come in." Erik was anxious to know more about what Pyrce was going to say. It had been a long time since he last had a decent conversation with anyone, Pyrces' father, Nadir being one of the few.

The door opened with a squeak and the young servant, Emareth, entered. "Sir, your dinner is ready." She looked to their guest and a thought crossed her mind. "Will you be eating in the dining room or your study this evening?" A smile danced on her face.

"I'll take it in the dining room tonight. Emareth, please, will you be kind enough to set a place for our guest as well? He will be staying with us for some time."

Emareth nodded to her master. "Yes, my Lord." Emareth curtsied and left the room.

The look on Pyrces' face took Erik by surprise, and he had to suppress the urge to laugh. Instead, he allowed a small half smile to play on his lips.

"What? I owe your father, do I not? And he certainly would have my head if I refused his son and daughter-in-law to stay here till you find your feet." Erik gestured towards the door as he stood. "Will you join me for dinner? I wish to hear more about you, your wife and Nadir... er... Lamar. And when the time is right, when you have shown to me that you can withstand a life here within my household, you may send for your wife, Sasha." Erik finished with a full smile.

Pyrces' face was lit up like a candle, his happiness at not being kicked out radiated from him and Erik could feel it spread outwards to him as well.

At that they both left the library.

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**A/N**:_ Gaston Leroux was a superb writer. I have and still do enjoy his work. And well, without him we would have no Phantom to haunt are dreams and imaginations that we are able to turn into stories of our own. Please review._


	5. Pain of Forgetting

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" original plot, nor its famous characters. Although soon you will read of new ones that are of my own creation._

**A/N**_: Were you wondering when Christine was going to come into the story? Well this chapter is completely for her and Raoul. This chapter has much meaning and plays a big part in the chapters to come. Enjoy._

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**Chapter Five**

**Pain of Forgetting**

**_London, England. The Château de Chagny._**

"Christine?" Raoul entered into the library where his wife, Christine the Vicountess, was sitting by the fireplace reading.

"Yes, Raoul?" She answered weakly.

"Christine, supper is prepared. Would you care to join me tonight in the dining room? Or would you prefer to eat alone, again?" His tone for the last question was harsh, filled with aggravation and pain.

"Why must you speak to me like that, Raoul? You know how it hurts me." It was obvious that this was not the first time that she had to hear her husbands irritation and anger towards her. It was not the first time that she knew it to be her fault, as usual.

Raoul stepped further into the library, but kept his distance from his wife.

"_You_ are hurt?" He stated sarcastically."Christine, I am the one who is being rejected here. I am the one in great pain. How am I supposed to act when I see my wife, day after day, since the moment that we were married, ignore me and spend countless hours to herself?"

Christine stood and walked over to the white double doors that lead to the balcony.

"You do not know what you are talking about. You have no idea how I feel, what I am going through." She could not bear to look at Raoul in the face; for everytime that she did, it only reminded her of the terrible person that she was, of the terrible things she had done. And she had not done.

"How am I supposed to know? You never speak to me, you never tell me what's wrong." Raoul walked over to where she had been sitting. As he sat down he laid his face in his hands. "From what I can see Christine, you do not love me. You do not wish to be here with me. Instead you wish to be back with... with _him_! At your precious Opera House in Paris."

Christine turned inshock at what Raoul had just stated.

"How can you say that Raoul? I do love you." She walked over to him, sitting on the chair's ottoman. She placed her hand on his head and stroked his hair. "Raoul, I care for you very much. And... I _am_ happy to be here with you as your wife. It's just... I do not know what I am to feel. I don't know how I am just supposed to forget everything that has happened. It's just too hard."

Raoul bolted up, pushing Christine's hand away.

"And all the while you make me suffer? Damn it, Christine! Are you not thinking clear? He tried to kill me and force you to marry him. Christ! He burnt down the Opera in all his madness. All because of his insane obsession for you. He was an absolute madman!"

Christine felt tears sting at her eyes.

"Stop that! You have no right to speak about Erik like that. He loved me. He was willing to do anything for me." She bit her lip and looked away.

"Even kill!" Raoul was furious now. He could not believe what he was hearing. _Was she completely oblivious to what she was saying? What was she trying to imply?_ "Killing innocent people is not a way to prove that you love someone. Freeing them, caring for them, protectng them from danger. That is what one should do for the sake of love. Face it, Christine, he was insane, a madman, one that could never love or be loved."

"That is not true!" _What was she doing?_ She was arguing to her husband about Erik yet again. Her head was in a maelstrom of emotion, of pain, anger and confusion. She felt as though she could scream at the top of her lungs and he still would not understand her. "To you, that is what love may be. But Erik... he may have seemed like a monster to you, but you could never of known what he truely was."

"And what is that, Christine?" His voice was a low growl. "A more pitiful, pathetic lunatic than what _I_ was plainly able to see?" Pure hatred was coursing through him. In his anger, he lashed out his hand to a pile of papersand a lamp that were lying helplessly on a table.Thepapers werestrewn all across the floor along with the shattered glass.

Ignoring the mess Raoul had just made, Christine continued to defend Erik from being spoken of so horribly. "How dare you! You were blind to what I saw! What I still see. You are just jealous that a man like him could have feelings of undying devotion and love for me. More than_ you_ could ever possess!"

That was it, with her final words, she had brought this fight further than any other. There was no going back now.

During the arguement, Raoul had paced back an forth in fury, waving his hands in the air, while Christine just stood her ground by the armchair infront of the fireplace, tears spilling down her cheeks. But those final words from her had now sent him over the edge. He had enough of all of it, no more avoiding the obvious, he had to know, now or never.

_Whom does she really love, Erik or me?_

He moved to her, gripping her slender shoulders in his strong hands. "I can not stand this any longer Christine. I want you to tell me now. Who is it that you really love? Who you wish to be spend your life with, me or that bastard!"

Christine was shocked beyond belief from the question. She froze, not knowing how to answer. God, how she did not want to, but she herself could not hide the truth any longer. Pain and the suffocation of guilt was consuming her. She knew, before she was ever married, that she was doomed to this fate. It was only a matter of time before she had to reveal how she truely felt.

This night would be once again another turning point in her life.

She wanted to tell Raoul her true feelings before they were even married, Hell, before she even left Erik's home underneath the Opera. But now, because of her weakness, she will have to suffer even more, perhaps even lose this second life that she thought would be so joyous and filled with happiness. It was now, though, anything far from what she had hoped it to be. It was too late now to go back, too late to make things right, as things should have been. The truth was now going to be known.

She pushed his hands off of her and took a few steps back and turned away from him. She drew a deep, shuddering breath, a lump swelled in her throat. Her whole body shook with the fear of what was to come now.

"I should have said this months ago." She sighed. "I do love you Raoul. But not in the way you have wished. Not in the way that I have tried to convince myself to believe. My love for you is more like that of a close friend, one that I will always care for, but can never truely love soulfully." She caught back the sob that almost broke out.

As the tears rushed down her cheeks, she could hear Raoul behind her, his breathing deep and heavy, so full of pain. But she continued none the less. "I can never love you they way that I love Erik. My love for him is pure and one that will never die."

Raoul let out the puff of angered breath that had been pent up in his throat, rage filling his every pore. In one swift movement he grabbed Christine's shoulder once more, turning her to face him. He raised his right hand and threw it hard and fast against her left cheek. The force of the blow sent Christine to the wood floor, she hit the ground landing on her arm.

Christine's yelp did not even reach Raoul's ears, he was too furious.

"Has anything that I ever done for you mattered? Did I not vow my life, my love, my very soul to you Christine! And this is how you repay me! By denying me what you yourself in return have vowed! Damn you! You little viper. Not only now have you denied and lost him, but me as well. You will curse the day you did not do all that I asked of you!"

With that, Raoul stormed out of the room, leaving Christine on the floor in agony.

He was right and she now knew it. She lost Erik and now she had just lost Raoul. Christine was bound to suffer a life of solitude, forever in guilt and pain. Despite the amout of pain throbbing from her cheek and arm, Christine could not help but look back at how much she had hurt Raoul, at the fights that had occured before, but that had never turned out as brutal as this. She even looked back to the day of their wedding, a day when everything should have been perfect. But instead it had been a disaster.

After she had left Erik she tried so hard to forget him. More like Raoul had told her to. Raoul wanted to be married right away, so within a week after leaving the Opera's cellars, the arrangements were set. During their vows she slipped in her speach, she replaced Raoul's name with Erik's. The whole chapel gasped in shock. She knew then that her life was going to be a life of pain, regret, and absolute torment, and she was right. The painful memories ever since then bombarded her mind, slashing her with pain.

Within a few moments, Raoul had rushed back into the room. Christine was frightened by the wild look that had overtaken his face. His eyes looked as though they could tear her apart. He moved to her and roughly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her alongside him. He forced her out of the room, through the hallway, down the grand staircase, and past all of the servants. He released her as they reached the large wooden doors at the front of the home.

She tried to catch her breath as the tears and sobs kept coming out of her.

Raoul threw the doors open and then looked at Christine with all the seriousness and pain of the world.

"There." He pointed past the doors to the outside as he spoke. "Go to him if you want him so much more than me. Leave! But remember Christine, he let you go, told you to leave him, for he did not want you. And if you leave me now, if you walk out these doors, you can never come back."

Christine could not stop the tears that were pouring down her face, they fell so hard and so much, that the thundrous rain outside could not even compare.

"What are you saying, Raoul?" She spat out through her sobs.

His trembling hand still pointed out the doors.

"If you do not love me than go! Go now and leave me!"

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**A/N**_: Wow. I'm making myself cry now. Did you like it? Alot can happen in the blink of an eye. You all have no idea what is in store. The story is far from over. Let me know what you think. Please Review._


	6. A Second Loss

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" original plot, nor its famous characters. Although soon you will read of new ones that are of my own creation._

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**Chapter Six**

**A Second Loss**

_**Paris, France. Downtown townhomes. Nearly two weeks later.**_

Christine had now lost the second man in her life that had ever truely loved her. And once again it was her fault. She lost one only to lose the other shortly after. She now had no one. No one to love and no one to love her in return.

**xxx**

Christine was in a carriage heading towards the only place on earth, to the only person she knew whom she hoped would take her in. The weather was ghastly, but it was to be expected for September. As the rain pelted down outside, inside the carriage Christine looked out the small window singing softly to herself, a song which she would never soon forget.

_"No going back now, our passion play has now at last begun. Past all thoughts of right or..." _She stopped as she felt the carriage come to a halt.

"Madamoiselle, we have arrived." The driver stated as he jumped down from his seat.

The coachman opened the door and offered his left hand to help Christine down while his right hand held an umbrella over her. Christine stepped lightly out onto the ground. The door to the small townhouse that stood before her opened revealing a very beautiful, short blonde-haired girl. The young girl lept with joy as she saw Christine walk up the stairs to her. The two women embraced and held each other till they were startled by a voice from behind.

"Madamoiselle, your luggage." The coachman stood there holding two of Christine's suitcases.

"Oh. So sorry, Monsieur, please just set them down right here, we can bring then in. Thank you, Monsieur."

Christine rumaged through her purse and handed the man a few coins. He took the tip graciously, bowed and took his leave. She looked back to her dear friend.

"Meg, I've missed you so much." Christine fought back the tears that were threatening to spill. She'd cried enough to last a lifetime.

"And I you, Christine. It has been too long." Meg clasped her hands together infront of her.

"Six and a half months is most definately too long."

A familiar voice came from behind them within the home. Both girls turned to see Madame Giry standing in the doorway clad in black from head to toe. Her face was very pale and filled with a deep sadness.

"Madame Giry..." Christine moved past Meg and into Madame Giry's arms. "Oh, Antionette." Christine broke down into tears.

Meg had not know the full extent as to what had happened between Raoul and Christine, but she knew her mother did. Four days ago they had recieved a letter telling them that something unfortunate had happened in her marriage to the Viscount and that Christine was coming to live with them for a short period of time. Meg wished she knew more, but she was confident that when the time was right Christine would tell her. She just had to be patient.

Meg stood there watching Christine and her mother gently holding each other. Both were a sad sight and both had a wound that needed to be healed. Meg turned and picked up the bags that were on the porch.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to intrude but I need to get these bags inside before they completely soak up with rain." Meg said lightly.

Christine looked back at Meg and she couldn't help but smile; she really was a good friend.

"Oh, Meg, thank you. Here let me take one of those."

The two young woman took the bags and headed inside. Madame Giry moved out of their way and followed them, closing the door behind her.

**xxx**

"Christine, it is terrible news to hear of your marriage troubles. Meg and I had such high hopes that you two were going to be happy together. It breaks my heart." Madame Giry was sitting in a armchair while Meg and Christine shared the couch.

It had been almost two hours since Christine's arrival. Meg had helped Christine unpack in Meg's bedroom. Meg was to share the larger, spare bedroom with another woman that was staying with the Giry's as well. The moderate three bedroom townhouse went from only two occupants to four in a matter of two weeks.

The three women were all sitting around a coffee table in the home's study while the forth woman came into the room with a tray of créme de menthe and croissant.

"Will there be anything else, Ma'am?" Her voice was soft and calm.

Christine recognized her ethnic voice as Persian. The memory of meeting Erik's friend, the Persian, Nadar, came to her mind. She quickly shook her head to rid herself of any and all thoughts of Erik.

"No, thank you. Sasha, I would like you to meet Christine de Chagny, the young woman I told you about. Christine, this is Sasha Raquel, she will be staying here with us for a short while until her husband sends word for her retrival."

"Ah, yes. Hello, Madame de Chagney." Sasha curtsied politely.

"Hello. Sasha, tell me, your accent is Persian, yes?" Christine asked conversationally.

"Yes it is, Ma'am. My husband and I left Persia and came to France to look for work after my father-in-law became ill."

"Oh, I'm sorry. But your husband, where is he? Is he staying here with the Giry's as well?" At first Christine thought it was an honest enough question.

That is until all of the other women's faces grew dim and silent.

"Did I say something wrong?" Christine worried her lip between her teeth.

"No, Christine. It's just..." Madame Giry was afraid that Christine would ask this. "He's just out of town. Pyrce is in search for a place of work for Sasha and himself. So instead of Sasha traveling from place to place, they thought it best for her to stay here in Paris with us. I offered her a decent pay for her housekeeping services and it seems to be working out just fine. This way the have an income while Pyrce is away."

Christine was confused and had the strangest feeling that for some unknown reason if she knew the full truth of where Sasha's husband was it would cause her more devastation than what she was already in. So she decided to let it go.

"Of course, well I am pleased to of met you, Madame Raquel." Christine bowed her head.

"Pleased to of met you too, Christine." Sasha turned and faced Madame Giry. "If that is all, I wish to retire for the night."

"Yes, but of course. Rest well, Sasha. I'm sure we will hear from Pryce soon."

Sasha curtsied as she took her leave. Feeling a bit of tension in the room, Meg made her leave as well.

"Good night, mother, Christine." Meg kissed her mother's cheek and hugged Christine.

Now only Madame Giry and Christine remained in the study.

A moment passed before Antionette decided it was time to break the silence.

"Christine, I must know. This may be too soon to say, but please, tell me..." She took a breath for she knew this question would be hard on the poor girl. "Is this separation with Raoul temporary or permanent?"

She released the air that was lingering in her lungs only to hear Christine catch hers.

The question broke through Christine like daggers and pierced her heart. She broke down into a wimpering mess of tears and sobs. Antionette rose from her seat and moved around the coffee table to sit down next to Christine on the couch. She wrapped an arm around the poor girl, pulling her into her embrace while her other hand stroked her curly hair. They stayed like this until Christine's eyes were heavy and empty of tears.

It was nearly midnight when Christine was finally able to speak.

"It was all my fault, Antionette. I tried so hard to make our relationship work. To keep the past out of our lives but it was no use, the memories continued to haunt me. Tormenting me, day and night until I could not control myself. I became depressed and drawn away from Raoul. I just knew that I would have to pay for what I did to Erik. And if I could not give him peace then why should I deserve any? And now I've paid the price."

Christine sat back into the cushions, wrapping her arms around herself. A sob escaped her throat and she bit her lip. She took a few deep breath to keep herself in check before continuing her story.

"It was just as Erik had said the night that I left him: 'For either way you choose you can not win.' Oh, Antionette! I've lost them both. Erik is gone. Raoul has shut me out. What am I going to do? I have destroyed the lives of two men whom I loved with my childness and fear, and now I will surely suffer and die alone in my sorrow."

Madame Giry had expected this sort of outburst would occur. She felt Christine's pain pouring out of her. Antionette shushed her and went back to gently stroking Christine's hair, hoping it would calm her down somewhat.

Christine took another deep shuddering breath before she spoke once more. "I don't know where my path lies anymore. I'm not sure if Raoul will take me back. He was furious with me. I'm not even positive if he still loves me. So whether it is temporary or permanent I have not a clue. I doubt that I ever will."

Christine shook and lowered her head. "If I had to guess... I would think it was over between us. I mean, why would he want me back? It's been over six months and I still can not forget about Erik and if he is alright. Is he even alive? Did that mob capture him? Although I guess if he was caught then I would have heard about it. _'The great Phantom of the Opera was arrested within the cellars beneath the Paris Opera House!' _The newspress of such an unworldly event would have found it's way to London."

"My poor child." Madame Giry had been shedding her own tears during this whole ordeal. Christine was like a second daughter to her and to see her child in such anguish was breaking her heart. "I don't know what I can do to make things seem better, but know this..." She held Christine's face in her hands and they looked into each others eyes. "You will always have a home here with Meg and me. You are and always will be loved and taken care of here. You will get through this. _We_ will get through this."

At that, she pulled Christine to her and held her as a mother holds her child.

"Come, Christine, it is late. Let us sleep now for tomorrow is a new day for a new life."

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**A/N:** _Liking the story so far? Let me know what you think. Reviews are a must. I have really enjoyed writing this story and will continue to, till it is complete, which isn't anytime soon. So keep on reading. The story has only just begun._


	7. The Return to Paris

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" original plot, nor its famous characters. Although soon you will read of new ones that are of my own creation._

**A/N:** _Well enough about Christine. Now back to Erik. This chapter we will find out how Erik spends his daily life through the eyes of Pyrce. We will see a side to Erik which has been dormant for many years. Read and enjoy. _

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**Chapter Seven**

**The Return to Paris**

_**Gien, France. Two weeks after Pyrce first arrived at the Destler Estate.**_

The weather seemed to of finally cleared, two weeks of thunderous storms was enough. The waking sun rose to reveal a beautiful late September morning. Pyrce was busy at work cleaning and organizing his new home. Erik Destler, his new master, had graciously accepted him into the household. Destler offered him a job of maintaining the upkeep of the estate and small staff, and seeing to any errands that Destler needed accomplished. He would work decent hours and received a weekly pay. Erik had one of the guest bedrooms set up for Pyrce on the second floor. Pyrce found himself settle in with ease.

Pyrce's father had warned him of Erik's 'unusual behavior'. So, when Erik had an outburst caused by God knows what, Pyrce just simply ignored it and continued on with his work. Erik had at times praised Pyrce for tolerating and keeping up with him, for not cowering away in fear as so many had done before.

"That's quite alright, your only human." Pyrce would simply reply.

Pyrce would work close to his master and soon came to realize that he was just like any normal man. Erik ate, slept, and did normal daily activities. He decided that what his father had told him must have applied to Erik's past, for there was barely any sign of the so called _Phantom of the Opera_.

The only thing that struck him as odd was when his master would lock himself in a room for a day or two. On those days Pyrce would hear the most angelic music his ears had ever heard. Today was one of those days.

Pyrce was tending to his masters bedroom when he heard the music seep through the walls and dance along his skin. It was soft and soothing, like a lullaby. The music would cease for a minute or two then start back up. His father had told him that the '_Phantom_' was a brilliant composer and that he would spend day's even weeks on end writing and playing, creating beautiful works of art. Pyrce would find himself on a number of occasions standing very still with his eyes closed just soaking in the wonderful sounds.

Erik had instructed Pyrce not to interrupt him while he was in his music room and to leave his midday meal on the small table by the door. Pyrce would obey, doing his best never to disturb Erik, leaving a tray with Chianti and a small amount of food by the door. He did not mind this though, he rather enjoyed the days when his master played his music. The beautiful sounds would lighten his heart, drowning away the sadness of missing his beloved wife.

Pyrce was humming the soft tune when the music once again ceased. Five minutes went by and yet the music did not continue. He thought nothing of it as he finished making the bed. Then, from behind him, he heard a voice call out his name.

"Pyrce." A deep baritone sounded.

He turned to see Erik standing in the doorway.

"Yes, sir?"

Erik walked slowly into the room.

"It has been two weeks. You have proven me that you are a hard working man and have done all that I've asked of you, and you've never once asked for anything in return. Not even to see your wife that surely must be missing you as you are her. So, I have decided that it is high time that we go to Paris and retrieve her."

Pyrce could not contain his happiness as he smiled.

"You really mean it, sir?" Pyrce felt his heart flutter at the thought of seeing his wife.

Erik smirked at Pyrce's wide eyed expression.

"Yes, that is if you wish for her to come?"

Pyrce's smile grew to a wide grin.

"Of course! I mean, yes, sir." Pyrce tapped down a little on his excitement and composed himself.

"Then go pack. I have already made the arrangements. We will leave for Paris in the morning."

Pyrce looked at Erik confused.

"_We_, sir?"

"I made a promise to meet someone again that lives in Paris. So, since you need to go there then I will tag along. Is that alright?"

"Certainly. Who am I to object? Will Madame Giry be expecting us?"

"Yes. I sent word of our arrival to her the other day."

Pyrce stood before his master with all the glee in the world.

Erik had noticed how somewhat gloomy the young man had become during the past weeks. He saw a longing sadness while Pyrce performed his duties. Erik had seen men look like this before. It was always when they were missing something or someone dear to them. But now, as Erik mentioned him sending word for Sasha, he could see the man's world brighten. The shadow that loomed over Pyrce was suddenly lifted. In doing this for Pyrce, Erik too felt a sort of weight lifted off of his shoulders. Erik had helped bring another human happiness, something he thought he could never do.

"Well go and get ready."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Pyrce bowed and hurried out of the room.

Erik's heart went out to the young man. He knew that it was time to return to Paris, and not to mention that he had received a letter from Antoinette this past Wednesday telling him that Sasha was missing Pyrce terribly. So, Erik wrote immediately back to her informing that they would be there within the next day or two. And since it would take a day for the letter to reach its destination, they would be there the day after Madame Giry would receive the letter.

It was eleven o' clock at night when Pyrce was finally able to calm himself enough to sleep. Never had he been away from Sasha for so long. His heart has throbbing from missing her. In the morning he and Erik will set out for Paris. His heart somersaulted at the thought. He had thanked Erik many times before the day was out. Erik told him that they would be leaving soon after dawn, so they should arrive in Paris sometime just before dusk on Friday evening.

Pyrce fell asleep and dreamt of Sasha, of their time at home in Persia sitting under the tree in which they had first met each other.

Erik had retired early that night. His mind was swirling with worry. He would be returning to Paris tomorrow.

Would people still be searching for the murderous Phantom?

Was he endangering himself going back there?

Questions such as this kept him awake even as the sun was just peaking over the horizon signaling morning had come. Erik turned in his bed and sighed. Rising, he went to the bathroom and cleaned up, then went to his wardrobe and dressed himself in comfortable black cotton slacks and a white button-up, long-sleeved shirt. He knew that Pyrce must already be awake. A man like him would waste no time, he was probably already outside preparing the horses and hooking them up to the carriage.

"He's a good man." Erik murmured to himself.

He grabbed a full-length cotton, wool-lined jacket on his way out of his room. The weather may be clear but it seemed as though the seasons had skipped autumn and went straight to winter. The air was chilly and had a harsh bite to it.

Erik thought to himself to ask Emareth for an extra blanket or two to stow away in the compartment within the seats of the carriage. The temperatures would surely drop come nightfall and they may need it to help stay warm.

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_Previously on Thursday afternoon..._

Antoinette Giry was helping Sasha prepare lunch in the kitchen when Meg came in holding an envelope.

"Mother, a letter came for you today. It does not have a return address, nor does it say whom it is from." Meg handed the letter over to her mother who was wiping her hands on her apron.

Antoinette looked at the envelope and at once recognized the handwriting. She mumbled a name under her breath then looked at her daughter.

"Dear, will you please finish and help Sasha?"

"Yes mother." Meg turned to wash her hands. She and Sasha began talking and laughing while they cooked.

Madame Giry left the two women and went into the study. She opened the letter and quickly read it over.

"Oh no! Erik! Here? Tomorrow! No, this is not good, not so soon. If he see's that Christine is staying here. If they meet, how would he react? How would she react? Christine has finally settled down, her heart would break if she saw him. _His_ heart would break if he saw her.No, this can not happen. I won't let it. They can not meet, not even know of the other being here."

She rested her head down on her arms that were folded on the desk. She let out a small sob as she tried desperately to think of what she must do to avoid a confrontation.

"Madame Giry?"

She tipped her head up to see Christine standing in the doorway looking at her.

"Madame, what's wrong? Are you alright?" Christine walked over to stand beside her.

Antoinette snatched the letter and envelope and shoved them into the desk's drawer.

"Christine. I'm fine, dear, nothing to worry about." She lied.

What was she to say now? What could she do to make sure that they did not see each other? What ever she had to do, she needed to do it now while there was still time.

"What was in that letter? Who was it from? You look startled." Christine was worried by the look on Madame Giry's face.

"It was nothing, Christine. Never you mind about that letter." Madame Giry's mind was frantically racing. Where could she send Christine while Erik was here? It wasn't like Erik would be staying long, just one evening. Then she knew what had to be done.

Ever since the Opera's theater was burnt down all the girls from the _corps de ballet_ and performers who wanted to continue their lessons were sent to a nearby performance school several miles away. Meg still wanted to be a dancer, so Antoinette had Meg enrolled at the new school. Lately, Meg had wanted Christine to come and see how much she had improved. The classes would start midmorning, since most of the pupils had to travel a ways, and they would end late at night; usually past dusk. Then, with the ride back to Paris, which took several hours and was dangerous so late at night due to no good bandits, Meg would sometimes spend the night with another ballet girl whom she had made friends with.

Meg's lessons were twice a week, Tuesday's and Friday's. This was the perfect opportunity. The only one she could come up with.

Antoinette would have to use this to her advantage.

"Christine, you know how much Meg has wanted you to go with her to the new performance school, right? Well, I was wondering. Would you care to go with her tomorrow? I know it would mean so much to dear Meg. And if you went, she would probably stop nagging at you."

Madame Giry sent up a silent prayer hoping that she would accept the offer.

Christine let out a weary sigh.

"It would feel to wrong to go, Madame. To see everyone dancing and singing; I don't know if I'd be able to handle it."

Antoinette prayed harder, clenching her fists in her lap hidden under the desk.

"But think of how happy Meg would be if you went." She pressed.

Christine had good reason to not wanting to go, but this was Madame Giry's only option.

"Yes, she would be very happy wouldn't she? I just..." Christine paused.

She knew that it was not going to be like the Opera. She knew that _he_ would not be there. Christine did want her friend to be happy.

"Oh, alright. I give up, I'll go. But don't expect this to be a regular thing." She stated with mock annoyance, her hands on her hips in akimbo.

"Of course not. Oh, Christine, Meg will be so excited..."

"I will be excited about what?"

Meg walked into the room just in time to hear her mother's last statement.

Christine stood up and looked at her dear friend.

"Excited, because I will be going with you tomorrow to you performance school."

Meg leapt up with joy clapping her hands.

"Really? Oh, this is fantastic. I can't wait. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Meg hugged Christine, who just smiled and patted her friend on the back.

Madame Giry inwardly let out a sigh of relief.

_Good._ She thought. _The girls will leave early in the morning and get back Saturday afternoon. Erik should arrive sometime late in the evening tomorrow and, since he won't be staying long, he should be long gone before Christine comes back. It's perfect, though I am cutting it a little close. Maybe I should talk to Sasha about some kind of a backup plan just in case._

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Erik and Pyrce had traveled through the whole morning and midday, stopping only for a short period to give the horses a rest and to let Pyrce warm himself before he became frostbitten and sick. Erik had offered to drive for a time, but Pyrce was persistent and graciously refused the kind gesture.

They started off once more after an hour. Pyrce was sitting in the coachman's seat while Erik was inside quietly dreaming.

xxx

_Erik was back in the Opera Populaire. He had just killed Piangi and took his place on stage as Don Juan. Christine looked so beautiful standing there singing the words that he had composed. Her eyes were filled with passion and longing. Erik thought that his heart would burst through his chest just from the sight of her beauty._

_He could not pry his eyes from her as she walked to him up on the bridge as they sung together. Everything was perfect. His fantasy of performing with Christine had become a reality. They were so close now. He was just about to reach out and hold her in his arms, but he could not._

_The theater's painted scenery suddenly melted away. Christine's image that was only inches from him faded as well._

_His dream was crumbling before him._

_All was quiet and dark now. There was no music, no light, and no Christine. Only darkness remained._

_Then out of the black abyss the sound of feminine weeping could be heard. A full moon slowly lit up the sky and ground around him. The hard-wood floor of the stage was now a meadow covered with a layer of snow. The white cold flakes danced through the air landing on a small human figure sitting in the field of dying flowers._

_Erik walked over to her._

_The dim light shone on the figure, creating an effect as though she were glowing. It was a little girl, she was sitting with her small hands clutched around her legs and her forehead resting on her knees._

_"Why are you crying, child?" Erik asked softly so as not to frighten the poor girl._

_She did not look up, only continued to cry._

_"Please don't cry. Tell me what is wrong; maybe I can help." Erik knelt down onto his knees and placed it on her shoulder._

_Still keeping her head down, Erik heard her speak._

_"You can't help me. He has left me and is never coming back. Even when he promised he would return." She choked on a sob._

_Erik moved his hand onto the girl's head and gently began stroking her soft wavy hair. For some unknown reason he felt compelled to help this little girl. It tore at his heart seeing her like this. She was alone with no one caring for her._

_"Maybe if you told me who he is I could help find him for you."_

_"You can't find him! He is lost and he has forgotten me!" Her voice took on an angered tone._

_"Just start with a name. No one can be lost if no one is looking for them." Erik pried._

_The girl hit Erik's hand away and she started to tremble._

_"You do not understand! I tried looking for him. I even found him once but he does not care about me anymore. He found someone else to love him, someone for him to love instead of me." Her voice was hot with rage but was also filled with a deep sadness._

_She finally looked up at him. Her eyes were of sparkling sapphires. Erik gazed deeply into them and found that they were eyes like his, empty and haunted. Erik fell back terrified by those eyes, of her face. He was afraid of whom that precious face reflected._

_Her eyes may be just like his, but the rest of her shared a striking resemblance to Christine. Her features were unbelievably similar, all but for her hair and eyes. The girl's hair was wavy like the sea in a light breeze and jet black._

_Erik stumbled to his feet, the child's gaze still fixed upon him._

_"Christine!" His voice was shaky and breathless._

_"No!" She screamed with a broken heart. "I'm not her! I came before her! You left me and found her! She took you away from me!" _

_The girl was standing now, taking small steps closer to Erik, and with each step he retreated backwards._

_"If you are not Christine then why do you look like her?" He blinked rapidly, wishing it were just his eyes that deceived him._

_"It is not I who looks like her, but instead it is she that looks like me. I was born three years before her. I knew you long before she stole you. I showed you love before she even knew of your existence." Her small voice was straining past the sobs and anger._

_"Stop it! You're just a dream. You're not real." He trembled as he continued to back away from her._

_"But I am real, Erik. I am very real. And you know it!" The girl kept walking towards Erik, but she was changing now. Her short, young body was growing, aging. She was now as tall as Christine, perhaps even an inch or two more. Her ragged, torn clothes had morphed into a beautiful white, wedding gown. The very same gown that Christine had worn the night she left Erik. _

_Erik froze on the spot. He was trying hard to understand what was happening and to control the many emotions that were storming within his mind and body._

_She was beautiful. An angel with the eyes of the devil. She hesitantly walked up to him, stopping only inches from his face which bore no mask._

_"If you could only remember." She said with a sigh, her earlier anger had diminished leaving only the sadness behind._

_"If you only knew the love that I had for you. What I still have for you locked away deep within my soul. But you will never know because all you will ever see is Christine. You will look at me and will think of her. You will attempt saying my name but will instead only speak hers. I am dead to you just as you are dead to me."_

_Erik reached out his hand to touch her but she was the one backing away now. He stepped forward._

_"Wait! Where are you going? Don't go!"_

_She didn't answer him; she just backed away as the scenery once again started to fade into blackness._

_"Come back! Please! Don't leave me! Don't leave me here all alone!"_

xxx

"Monsieur, Destler? We are here." Pyrce called out to his master.

Erik's eyes shot open, leaving the nightmarish dream behind. He lifted the little curtain that hung over the carriage door's window and looked out onto the streets of Paris that was slowly settling in for the night, which was just what he wanted. As the sun set, everyone would be going to their homes, so no one would be walking the streets and no one would see him. Well, except for of course the nightlife party-goers of the city, but they were mostly drunkards that couldn't see but two feet in front of them let alone identify him.

Erik sat for a silent minute trying to shake away that God awful dream, a dream that had cursed him by haunting his nights for over six months now; ever since he left the Opera. And just as he had always done before, he pushed it aside and forgot it. There was no point in troubling himself over something that he could no longer help.

Erik opened the carriage door and stepped out. Pyrce was already down from his seat and tying off the horses to a nearby lamp post outside the Giry home. Erik looked at the small townhouse, several lights were on. The two men walked up the few steps.

Erik lightly knocked on the door.

They heard a rustle from inside the home. Erik took a deep breath as the front door slowly opened.

"Erik? I've been waiting up for you. I thought you would have been here earlier." Madame Giry stood in the doorway. She looked at Erik with a smile on her face. "But, Lord, am I glad to see you again."

She moved towards him, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly.

Erik was caught off guard by the hug. He hadn't had that kind of human contact in so long, but he welcomed it none the less.

"I'm glad to see you too. Antoinette, this is Pyrce Raquel, Sasha's husband."

Erik stood aside as Pyrce shook Madame Giry's hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame." Pyrce took her hand and bowed over it.

"Oh, Pyrce, I have heard so much about you. Sasha talks of you non stop. You are so very dear to her. Please, come inside and we can all talk more once you are both settled. Come along."

Madame Giry ushered them into the home, leading them to the study.

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**A/N: **_This part of the story is very important. It sets the stage for the next act. It has much to say. I like slipping those "previous time" slots in during my chapters as you have seen and will continue to read. It makes the story interesting I think. This new woman that Erik has been dreaming of will most definitely be seen further on in the tale to come, she is of course a main character of my creation._

_Now, there are many different stories that I have read where Erik's eye color has varied. Some have gone for the amber, yellowish color like that in Leroux's novel. Some have used gray, midnight blue, green, black, and aqua. And then there is the turquoise, the blue-green from that of Gerry Butler's true eyes. So, I decided to try out a color different from the rest. 'Sapphire' is a personal favorite of mine, not only my birthstone, but it is naturally dark and alluring like that of the description to Erik's eyes. I felt that I needed to add this little bit of information cause I knew myself that when I read other stories with all those different eye colors I wondered why they kept changing. There never really can be a true color I guess. It's all up to the author's imagination._

_Thanks for reading. Please remember to review. _


	8. Night's End to Morning's Beginning

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" original plot, nor its famous characters. Although soon you will read of new ones that are of my own creation._

**A/N:** _Muahaha! You have no idea what is in store. Will Erik ever know that Christine is staying with Madame Giry? What will Erik have to face for coming back to Paris? Who was the woman in his dream? You will just have to continue to read to find out. _

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**Chapter Eight**

**Night's End to Morning's Beginning**

After Christine and Meg left Paris earlier that morning, Madame Giry had confronted Sasha about Erik coming later that day and how he must never find out that Christine was staying with them, let alone still in Paris and not in England with her husband. Antoinette told Sasha about their past and to not speak of it with anyone. She also told her that Pyrce was already somewhat informed about the two. Sasha knew what she had to do, and what she was not to do. Christine living with them in the townhouse was to remain a secret. Neither Christine nor Erik would ever be mentioned to of or about the other being there.

**xxx**

"Can I offer you something to drink, maybe a little to eat as well?"

Erik and Pyrce both took a seat by the fireplace, while Madame Giry remained standing just inside the doorway. Both men had had nothing to eat or drink since they began their journey that morning.

"Yes, please." Both men replied.

"Very well. Just wait here, I'll only be but a minute." Madame Giry left the room, leaving Erik and Pyrce comfortably by the fire.

The two sat quietly. Pyrce felt as though it was ages before Madame Giry came back with tea and biscuits, but he became upset when she entered alone. Madame Giry knew what Pyrce must be thinking.

"Do not worry, Pyrce. You will see Sasha very soon. She wasn't sure when exactly you would be arriving. The poor darling, she was so excited she just couldn't sit still. So she left to go run a small errand for me." Pyrce's face fell. "She will be back any minute, I assure you." She smiled as she placed out the cups of tea.

Pyrce took deep even breaths to help calm himself. Erik almost had to laugh at how silly the boy had become. But then again, Erik had never been married, let alone in a lasting relationship to understand how Pyrce must be feeling.

"Sasha is a very lucky woman to have a husband that cares for her so much." Erik spoke with much sympathy. Pyrce looked at him as Erik gave a reassuring smile. Pyrce was now able to relax more now that Erik had said this.

The three companions were sitting in the room for only few minutes when they heard the front door open. Pyrce nearly jumped out of his seat. And sure enough, after the door shut, Pyrce heard the most heavenly voice that brought warmth to his aching heart.

"Antoinette, I'm back." Sasha called out.

Madame Giry called to her to come into the study. Pyrce's heart leapt with joy as Sasha entered into the room. Time seemed to of paused for the couple. They stood looking at the other then finally ran into each others arms. Madame Giry and Erik watched as the two embraced, holding the other tightly as though they feared that they may disappear.

Not caring that there were two people in the room with them, Pyrce cupped a hand on either side of Sasha's cheeks, pulling her face towards him so that their lips met. He kissed her deeply, and then moved his lips to her forehead and nose. He wrapped his arms around her again, nuzzling his face in her hair, breathing in her scent that he so longed to fill his lungs and senses.

Not wanting to be rude, they both finally sat down on the sofa, while Erik moved to a chair set beside Madame Giry.

"We can never thank you enough, Monsieur Destler, Madame Giry, for taking my husband and I in. You both were our last hope." Sasha sat, hand in hand, beside Pyrce. Her heart was like an ocean filled of gratitude towards her new friends. Pyrce and Erik explained the situation, living and work terms all to Sasha over the course of an hour. When Sasha heard of the benefits that Erik was already providing for the couple, she felt as though it were a dream come true.

"You truly are kind and generous man, Monsieur Destler."

"Yes, Erik is an angel." Madame Giry was overjoyed at how much Erik had changed in his life.

Madame Giry had been so quiet that Erik almost forgot she was there and when she finally spoke it was a complement for him. He couldn't help but smile at her. Things had certainly changed.

The grandfather clock, located in the right hand corner of the room, chimed announcing that midnight had arrived. Madame Giry raised her hand to her mouth, covering her yawn.

"My goodness, the time has seemed to of slipped right by. Pyrce, you may share a room with Sasha, I'm sure that will not be hard to do. Erik, there is a spare bedroom, which I set up for you. That is if you wish to stay the night?"

Pyrce looked at Erik hoping that he would allow them to stay. It had been a long journey. Erik _was_ tired, and he only assumed that Pyrce felt the same.

"Yes, we could do that. But only if you wish to stay Pyrce?" He asked in a teasing tone.

"Yes!" He blurted out. The company all let out a snicker.

"Well that settles it. I will see you all in the morning." Madame Giry stood, as did the others. Everyone said their good nights, and went to their rooms.

As Erik laid in his bed, he could swear that an all too familiar fragrance lingered in the air. It was the sweet smell of lavender. He closed his eyes, letting himself slip into a dreamful slumber.

_Erik found himself once again in the Opera House. He was descending into the cellars, but he was not alone._

_He saw a small slender figure trailing behind him, holding onto his hand. He helped this figure into the gondola. As the boat swept along through the water, he heard the voice of an angel singing to him. For him. He held out his hand to help the figure out of the boat and onto the shoreline of his home. The figure glided into the candlelight and there he saw her. His beautiful Christine. He led her all around his lair, never wanting his eyes to slip away from her._

_"Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be! Only then can you belong to me..."_

_She was so close to him that he was able to smell the sweet scent of lavender on her flesh. She felt so warm against him. It was intoxicating. He led her past the wax mannequin that he had made of her, but this time she did not faint. No, instead she continued to follow him as he led her up the stairs. She continued to follow him willingly as they reached the bedroom. God, she was beautiful._

"Erik?" A knock came at the door to the guest bedroom. "Erik, it is nearly seven o' clock." Pyrce opened the door. Erik was still dreaming, but his eyes were fluttering underneath, his body twitching. Pyrce knew that Erik had trouble sleeping and for the times when he was finally able to rest, he would wake suddenly drenched in sweat, sometimes even wailing two different female names.

"Monsieur Destler, it is time to wake." Pyrce tried again.

Erik was still deep in sleep. He hadn't heard Pyrce trying to wake him.

_Christine was looking at him._

_"Christine, I love you."_

_Christine did nothing but stand there. Erik knew he was dreaming, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to wake up just yet. Something was holding him there, pulling him deeper into a memory of long ago. Within a blink of an eye, the lair faded away, the background turning into a land of snow covered meadows, dead flowers buried under its white sheets. Erik looked around at the new location, a location all too familiar._

_"I know this place. Not far from my new home in Gien is a meadow just like it. Not far from where..."_

_Erik looked quickly back to where Christine had been standing, but she too had changed. Her adult body shrunk into a small child's. The seven year old that Erik had first laid eyes on. But again she was different. Instead of Christine's hazel colored eyes, they were once again that dark sapphire, and her hair now wavy and black._

_Erik knew this girl, but he knew it was not Christine._

_At first glance the two would be mistaken for the other. But these dreams have been coming back, night after night for nearly seven long moths and Erik had come to know the difference between the two. He had come to remember who she was. _

_The girl stood in the snow, a little more than an arm's reach away from him. Her smile quickly melted away, curling downwards into a scowl as anger plagued her small, delicate face._

_"Why, Erik? Why did you not come back? You promised me that you would come back!"_

_Erik looked down at her, full understanding as to why she was angry towards him. Yet he could not speak. He could not apologize for his awful betrayal._

_"I HATE YOU ERIK!" She screamed at the top of her lungs._

Erik's body violently shook from the dream. Pyrce was standing beside him, his hand on Erik's shoulder as if he had been trying to wake him. Pyrce did not even have to ask, he knew that Erik had had another nightmare. He was saddened that his master could not receive a full night's rest without the risk of these terrible dreams. But there was nothing either of them could do about it.

"What time is it?" Erik lifted the covers off of him, placing his bare feet on the hardwood floor. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead.

"It is just past seven o' clock, sir. The sun has just barely risen." Pyrce drew the curtains, the early morning light slowly creeping into the room. Erik had requested that the company leave early that morning so that they may return back to Gien not too late in the day.

"If we do not leave now, sir, we might not get back until nearly midnight." Pyrce handed Erik a fresh change of clothes.

"Of course, forgive me for sleeping in. It will only take me a moment to dress. Is everything set for our departure?"

"Yes, my lord. Sasha and I woke earlier to pack her things. We can leave whenever you are ready."

"Good. I will be out shortly."

Pyrce left the room while Erik got dressed.

Sasha was still saying her goodbyes to Madame Giry when Pyrce walked out the front door of the house.

"Oh, Pyrce, is Monsieur Destler awake?"

"Yes, Sasha. He will be out momentarily. Madame Giry, we can not thank you enough for your generous hospitality." Pyrce bowed over Madame Giry's hand and kissed it.

"It was a pleasure to of met the two of you. Just promise me one thing?" Antoinette spoke with a smile.

"Anything." The couple said together.

"Please come and visit me again, I truly enjoyed your company, both of you. And do take good care of Erik."

"You have our word." Pyrce nodded and bowed.

Erik came outside; his already worn clothes bundled under his arm.

"Madame Giry." Erik walked over to her.

"Erik." She tipped her head. He held out his hand, which she accepted and curtsied.

"Take care of yourself and Meg."

"You know I will."

They all said their final goodbyes and parted.

Sasha joined Pyrce at the front of the carriage, while Erik sat inside. They were only a few blocks away from Madame Giry's home when Erik opened the small window that was placed behind the seat where Sasha and Pyrce were sitting.

"I would like to make a short stop at the Opera House before we leave." He called out to them.

"But, my lord, the Opera is closed. What..."

"I know it is closed. I just need to see it; that is all." Erik said with authority in his tone.

"Yes, sir, as you wish."

Erik knew full well that the Opera was closed. But something deep within him was begging to see it one last time.

Several minutes went by, when the carriage came to a stop. Erik opened the door and peered out. From the outside, the Opera Populaire seemed to be perfectly fine. The doors though were locked and a sign had been posted. Construction and renovations had begun several months ago. Erik stood in front of the once main highlight of Paris. His home. His mind was beginning to drift off into another horrid memory.

_The screams of people could be heard as the Opera was perishing in flames. The screams were growing louder; nearly deafening in their high-pitched, frantic pace._

The screams were so loud that Erik shot his eyes open. The memory once again faded, but the screams remained. The sound of someone yelling for help could be heard as clear as day. And they were real. Someone was really screaming! Erik turned in the direction to where the screams and cries for help were coming from then ran towards them.

He ran down an alley and the cries grew louder with every step. He listened, terrified by the sounds. If it were any other voice he would not have had a care. Because if the tables were turned and he the one in trouble, no one would have helped him. A monster.

"Help! Someone please help..." The voice screamed in a high pitch then was cut off.

It was a woman. But her voice, it was horrifying at how familiar the vocals of the screaming were compared to... It almost sounded like... like...

"Christine!" Erik yelled, panic erupting through his veins.

Erik ran faster. The alley was too dark to know if it was really her, but it was her voice none the less. His eyesight was used to the darkness from being down in the cellars for so long, he was able to see if a shadowed object was lying in his path or not. He was only but a few feet away from her now. From whatever was happening to her.

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**A/N:** _Who can this mystery girl from Erik's dream be? Is the woman in the alley really Christine? Will Erik make it in time to help her from whatever is happening? You will just have to wait and see. The story is picking up. Please review and tell me what you think so far. Ask questions, give ideas, tell me what you think is happening or what will happen. More is still to come. Much more._


	9. An Angel's Rescue

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" original plot, nor its famous characters. Although soon you will read of new ones that are of my own creation._

**A/N:** _Oh, the suspense is killing me. What could possibly be happening? And even if Erik makes it to her, what will he do? You'll just have to read to find out. Take a breath and dive in. Erik's world is about to change all over again. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**An Angel's Rescue**

She screamed as the man tackled her to the ground. The man, now on top of the frightened and weak girl, started to beat her. She wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to stay conscious. She screamed for help and tried so hard to fight him off of her. But the more she screamed and resisted, the more he hurt her. She could barely move or feel much anymore. Everything was beginning to go numb. She fought so hard to stay awake, to try and prevent this man from going any further.

She was just about to pass out when she felt the heavy weight suddenly thrown off of her.

"You sick bastard!" A man's voice spat sharp and angry.

She was barely conscious when she heard the other man's voice. Was someone actually helping her? But who would risk their life for someone like her? She laid there and prayed. All that could be heard were the sounds of struggling. The man that had attacked her was now fighting with the man that was trying to save her. She tried to stand, but her body was too weak to support itself without assistance, so she slowly crawled towards the wall, away from the struggle behind her. She heard a final blow, a loud thud. The fighting had stopped, only the sound of one person's heavy breathing remained.

"Are you alright? Can you hear me?" This new mans voice was thick with worry, and yet it was the voice of an angel. It had been years since she heard such a voice, so deep with compassion; it was so calming that all of her pain seemed to suddenly fade away. The voice soothed her very soul.

She was confused though. No man could posses a voice such as this, except for one. Perhaps God had sent her the angel of her past. Yes, it had to of been her angel. Her prayers had been answered. Oh how she longed for years, since the day her angel fled, that he would suddenly return to her. Considering the moment that she was in, she could not help but remember a memory. The memory came from the deepest part of her, long ago forgotten, triggered by this mans voice. God was reminding her, giving her this memory, telling her why He had sent _him_ back to her.

_There was once an act of kindness on her part that she had shown to a man who had never been loved. It happened when she was a child. At the young age of seven, she knew a man, though he was like no other man she had ever met. He was scarred on face and spirit, fearful of the world. He suffered vast amounts of cruelty from many, and yet, she felt the deepest sympathy for him. She proved to him that not all humans were cruel, that not all would treat him with scorn, but instead with compassion, care, and most of all love._

_On the day that they parted, she told him that she loved him and that she cared for him, but most of all, that she was not afraid of his face. She removed the mask that he always wore, and with all the love and kindness that lingered in her young pure heart, she kissed his disfigured side. She looked back into his eyes, watching the tear that trickled down his cheek. She saw his eyes thank her for showing him what he so long longed for. He pulled her to him and held her tight. She felt more tears fall on her shoulder. He stroked her soft, wavy raven hair. _

"Thank you Kera. I will never forget you." _His voice was choked with compassion._

_Her own tears now spilled from her eyes. She looked upon his face once more and spoke softly._

"And I will never forget you, Erik."

In that one, brief moment she had remembered him, remembered the angel of her past. She heard the voice once again, the voice belonged to the man that was saving her; it was the same as Erik's. But it was deeper now, not like it was before, now it was filled with more pain and sadness, as though the years had continued to be unbearable with hatred, as though no one since the day they parted had shown him love. She couldn't help but feel her heart break. Why had no one taken care of him?

A longing desire to hold him again followed the memory, but she was so confused. Why would God send her Erik? Why would God give him back to her, when he so cruelly took him away?

"Can you move?" There was his voice again, it was so clear it pierced her heart, threatening to bleed her from the inside out. She knew now that this voice _had_ to of belonged to Erik. She didn't even need to look at his face. In all the years she had not heard or seen from him almost forgetting what he sounded or looked like, in this one moment, Erik had returned and she knew it without a doubt.

Erik bent over the hurt girl. He could have sworn it was Christine from the sounds of her screams, but it was still just too dark to be certain. The sun was not high enough in the sky for light to spill into the alley. All he knew was that she was hurt and he needed to get her out of there. But if it was Christine, why had she not reacted to him?

She felt herself being lifted and moved up against a wall. It was painful, but she opened her eyes. Everything was hazy and dark. "It hurts so much." She blinked, trying to remove the foggy veil that covered over her eyes. A hand brushed her hair out of her face.

"Do not worry; you're going to be fine. I promise." His voice swept over her, relaxing her sore and tender body. "Can you stand?" Her vision was clearing, and she tried to focus on his face, but it was still too dark.

_Damn._ She inwardly cursed. "I can try."

He helped her stand, wrapping her arm over his neck and shoulder, as he placed an arm around her waist. "Just take one step at a time."

Erik was supporting her whole body weight; she felt like a rag doll. Erik knew what Christine felt like in his arms, and this felt very similar, and yet different. He couldn't name it, it was just different. Perhaps it is not Christine, perhaps his mind was just playing tricks on him, only because of his dreams lately he wanted it to be her.

"Do you live around here?" He asked, as he helped her down the alley. She could not see his face, but she had the eerie feeling that he was staring at her despite the darkness.

"No." Her vision may have now been clear, yet useless in the dark, but her mind was now clouded. She was trying to understand how and why _he_ was here with her. _Does he even remember me? That is if it is him._

"Are you staying with someone, a nearby friend or family member perhaps?" She could tell though that he cared.

"No. I came here the other day on my own. My horse was startled when that man attacked me, and Phantom wouldn't have run far." She paused catching her breath, she was more exhausted than she had realized.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Phantom? Such a mysterious name for a horse."

"Yes well, I felt it suited him for he has a white marking on the right half of his face, while the rest of his entire coat is pure black. I once knew a man who wore a white mask that was nicknamed Phantom, or so he told me. So in his memory I decided to name my horse just that. I don't know why I just said that."

At hearing this, her rescuer stopped moving. "Is something the matter, Monsieur?"" They stood there as an awkward silence came between them. "Did I say something?" She felt uneasy, did she go too far? "Monsieur, please say something." He still did not answer, only once more continued to walk.

Erik wasn't sure what to think. This girl had known him? Who else could she be talking about? It was obvious now that it was not Christine, but without light to see her face, even with as good as his sight was in the dark, he was clueless as to her identity. Erik's mind was swirling in confusion. _Who is this girl?_

The alley was slowly gaining some light as they walked together, step by careful step slowly reaching the end of it. "Where are we going, may I ask?" Was she wrong in thinking that this man was Erik? "Monsieur, please answer me." There was just a touch of panic in her voice that finally broke his thoughts.

"Oh, forgive me Mademoiselle. My mind must have wondered."

"So it would seem. Are you alright?"

"It should be me asking you that." He smirked. "But yes, I am fine. How are you?"

"Grateful to still be alive, thanks to you. I am not sure what that man would have done to me if you had not come along."

"Do you know why he attacked you in the fist place? I mean, drunks like him would attack a young woman, but I've just never seen it happen in daylight or so violently."

"I am not sure exactly, Monsieur. I was just coming back into the city after…" She paused, remembering where she had been before all of this had happened.

"Mademoiselle, what is it?" Erik's mind was a swirling torrent of thoughts. His emotions were wreaking havoc on his nerves.

She tried to look into his eyes. "Forgive me…" She looked away. "I had received a letter the other day informing me that a dear friend of mine had died. So I rode to Paris immediately. After I finished with the preparations for his funeral I was just walking past the Opera when a man yelled over to me. I paid no attention to him and just continued to walk away. The next thing I know he started to chase after me. I was frightened, so I ran. I usually am a fast runner, but I had been riding for so long, my legs were somewhat stiff." She closed her eyes holding back the tears.

He heard her let out a small sob. "So you came to Paris all on your own? He must have been very close to you for you to have traveled by yourself."

"He was like a father to me. And besides, I have no one else that would have accompanied me. I guess you can say that I am alone in the world." Her voice suddenly became coated with a thin line of anger, which caught Erik off guard, but the sadness still claimed most of her.

He didn't know why, but he felt something was wrong besides the obvious attack on her life. A shadow loomed over the two even though the light was increasing. There was something in the way that she spoke too; it was like she was hiding the real reason why she was there. He was always clever in spotting when someone was not telling the truth. He even felt as though she knew the reason why she had been attacked.

"I give you my deepest sympathies, Mademoiselle. And I am sorry that this has happened to you. Losing your father figure in death, and then to be brutally attacked. I am amazed at how calm and in tact you are." Another long pause lingered between them.

By now they had reached the front of the Opera House. A carriage was waiting several feet to their left. The sun was just now pouring fully onto the streets, it had to of been nearly eight o' clock. Now that the light was free, Erik was able to see the full extent of the girl's injuries, as well as what she looked like.

Erik gasped as he stared her. At first he thought his mind had tricked him with her voice, but how could it trick him in what he now saw. It was not Christine, that was certain, but she resembled her greatly. Her eyes were glittering sapphires in the morning sunlight, and her hair was black and wavy, despite being caked with dirt and blood. As he stared at her, time seemed to of stood still.

They looked at each other, both in a daze. Not believing what the other was seeing. Erik's mind was running mad and his stomach churned in a mixture of disbelief, horror, and pain. He could only assume by the look on her face that she was feeling the same; expect part of her pain was due to the physical abuse she just endured.

He could not believe who he was with at this very moment, nor could she believe it herself. She had been right! She had assumed who this man was, but it was too unreal, so she had forced herself to not give up her hopes; but now her heart felt as though it was going to stop.

Erik could barely contain himself, he thought that he would fall to his knees and cry. Seeing her here with him, having all those dreams for the past seven months, it was too much for even him. He wanted to shout out her name, but his voice was caught in his throat, the air would not release out of his lungs. The girl of his past was here, with him now, out of some bizarre twist of fate.

Erik looked her up and down, noticing now the scrapes and bruises, along with the blood and dirt on her clothes. He would have to push aside for now why she was here, along with is emotions, and just where exactly all of that blood came from for it was obvious that not all of it was hers. He had to set aside all the questions that were one after the other plaguing his mind.

He took a deep breathe, calming his unsteady nerves.

"God, you must be in such pain... Sit on the steps and let me have a look at you." He motioned for her towards the steps, but she resisted, never once looking away from him. Her mind had not deceived her, she knew it was him. Her heart at first felt as if it would leap for joy at the sight of him, but instead, her thoughts turned her heart, making it pulse with anger. She stared upon his perfect white mask, then moving her eyes she fixed them to glare at those hauntingly dark, beautiful eyes.

She pulled away from him, acting as though she had never met him before in her life.

"No, Monsieur. I can not stay here another moment, I just need to find Phantom and go home. I can take care of myself there. Thank you again, Sir, for saving my life."

What was she thinking? She was in no condition to ride a horse, let alone barely walk for that matter. Erik wasn't sure, but there seemed to be the beginning sounds of anger and fear rising in her voice. Something was not right.

"Ke…" He quickly stopped himself. Should he call her by her name? "Mademoiselle, I can not allow you to ride a horse in your condition, you may end up hurting yourself even more. Now please, I can escort you to your home, wherever it may be, my carriage is right here." He gestured over to her left.

"Monsieur Destler?" A mans voice, and the sound of a woman's gasp, came from the carriage. Erik and the young woman looked up as a man and woman came down from their places. "Monsieur, what has happened? Who is this?"

"Pyrce, the lady's horse is missing. Would you please go and search for it? It is black with a white marking covering the right half of his face." Pyrce looked confused, but did as his master wished and left them at the steps of the Opera House. "Sasha, help me get the lady inside the carriage." Erik grasped her upper arm and tried to lead her to the carriage, but the girl refused to be moved.

Sasha stared at the girl and slowly recognition seeped across her face as her jaw dropped. She had been living at Madame Giry's home for the past two weeks, and she could have sworn, at first glance, that this was Christine. But as she looked closer, it wasn't.

"Destler?" The girl whispered. Her knees buckled and she lost her balance.

Erik felt her tremble, and he carefully helped her sit down. Her head was spinning that she didn't even hear him ask her if she was alright. Sasha was worried, the girl looked in terrible shape; she took a step back as Erik knelt down in front of the young woman.

"Miss, what is it?" Concern was thick in his soft voice.

She looked at him, eyes unfocused. How could he have that name? "You're... your name. It is Destler?"

He felt a fool. He knew that as soon as Pyrce had called out his name that she might react like this. "Yes." He knew exactly why she was behaving like this.

"Why do you have that name?" She spoke as though she weren't really there, like she was talking to herself instead of him. Their eyes locked.

Erik hated himself as he saw the raw pain in her eyes. A part of her was still angry at him for having not seen her till now. And yet, she could not help but feel somewhat relieved to know that he was still alive.

He swallowed and tried to answer her, but before he could say a word, the sound of a snarling man yelled over to them.

"You little wench! I will slit you throat and gut that damned man!" The man that had attacked her in the alley was standing there, his forehead bleeding from when Erik had forcefully hit him, knocking the man unconscious. "No one makes a fool out of me!"

"No! It's him. He's back!" Terror was etched into her words. She tried to get up and run, but her body wouldn't move. Pain enveloped her and forced her to writhe on the steps.

Erik stood up, facing the attacker. "Apparently you didn't learn the first time."

The man charged towards him. Sasha and the girl saw the two men tackle each other to the ground, fists flying, more blood spilling. They watched the two men rolling around on the stone ground, both flinching each time when Erik received a vicious blow. In a swift movement, as he lashed out a blow to the man's head, Erik threw him several feet. The man fell with his stomach to the ground, his body still.

Erik was breathing hard; he made his way back over to the young woman and knelt back down in front of her. "It's alright..."

She cut him off as she screamed. "Look out!"

The man had gotten back up, pulling a dagger out of his torn vest. He lunged at Erik with full force. Without a moment's hesitation or a second thought, the girl leapt with her remaining strength, pushing Erik out of the way.

Darkness crept over her, clouding her vision. She lay on the floor, staring up into the sky, completely oblivious to the scenario around her. Her consciousness was fading fast. She thought she knew where she was, and what had just happened. With all of her strength she had jumped forward, pushing Erik away; that much was clear. But why she was lying on the ground? And why was there an indescribable amount of pain in her stomach?

The pain shooting to her stomach and throughout her body was unbearable. She opened her eyes, but everything was fading fast. She turned her head, as she felt her body being held. Arms were wrapped around her. _He_ was cradling her within his embrace. She looked at the man staring down at her, watching his lips move as he spoke, but she could not hear what he was saying. She saw him shed a tear and her heart lurched; she never could bear to see him cry. Her mind was leaving her. _It's him. My angel has truly come back to me._ She smiled and placed her hand to the masked half of his face. Her anger for him completely subsided.

"Erik." She whispered. Her eyes fluttered closed and her hand fell to her chest. The darkness had consumed her, leaving her body bloody and limp.

…………………………

She had pushed him out of the way. Erik had not expected her to of done that, or even thought that she had the strength to do so. As she pushed him, he fell to the floor watching the blade run through her torso. She didn't even scream; she just stood there, looking at him as agony spread over her beautiful face, and then collapsed.

Erik jumped to his feet, grabbed the man by the throat and squeezed. He could have strangled the man's last breath out of him, but Pyrces' voice reached him. "NO, ERIK!"

Pyrce knew that Destler was capable of killing the man easily, but that would be murder, and he couldn't allow his new master to suffer the consequences that would follow if he did so.

Erik released his grasp and the man fell to his knees, gasping for air. Pyrce ran over to the man, knocking him out cold with the handle base of the horse whip. Erik fell to his knees, leaning over the bleeding woman; Sasha was already kneeling beside her.

In a swift, fluent motion, Erik pulled the dagger straight out of her body where it was embedded just under her last rib. Blood oozed and covered her entire torso. He used his hands to apply pressure on the wound. She was staring at him and he could see tears streaming along her cheeks. She was afraid, afraid to die. Who wouldn't be?

Erik brushed the hair out of her face, curling his blood soaked hand around the nape of her neck.

"No! Why did you push me out of the way?" He picked her up with his other arm around her waist, cradling her to his chest. "Why?" He shed a tear. "Why?"

She didn't answer; she only smiled and placed her small hand on his mask. "Erik." He stiffened as his face fell and turned a sickly yellow. She said his name. _It is her. She remembers me!_ He watched in horror as her hand dropped and she fell into darkness.

He shook her body, trying to wake her, wanting her to come back. "NO! Wake up! Please wake up!" In quick movements, he picked her up and hurried her over to his carriage. A horse was standing in the way of the door; it had a white marking on the right side of his face. "Phantom?" The horse neighed, and nudged the girl's arm with his snout. "Phantom, move!" The horse obeyed, stepping to the side. "Sasha, open the door!" Sasha ran up and opened the door. Erik placed the girl into the carriage, and then turned to Pyrce. "Tie the horse to the back. Then take us back to Madame Giry's." Erik left no room for questioning. Pyrce roped the horse to the back of the carriage, then took his seat in the front with Sasha, and ordered the horses to move.

While the carriage headed back to Madame Giry's home, Erik hurriedly shredded the shirt that he had worn earlier and quickly furled it to press against her gaping wound. "Do not worry, I will take care of you." Erik cursed himself for not protecting her. "Damn it! Why did you have to push me? I could have stopped him!" He tried in vain to help her, the torn shirt was slowing the bleeding, but she had lost already too much; her face had grown considerably pale. He applied more cloth and pressure, praying that she would be alright. He gently cupped her face with his hand. "You will be alright. I will take care of you, keep you safe. I won't let you go, Kera."

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**A/N: **_Was it what you were expecting? Who is Kera? How exactly does she know Erik? What is going to happen to either of them? And why the bloody hell was she being attacked in the first place? What secrets have yet to be revealed?_

_All these answers and more will be reveiled in the chapters to come. Flashbacks and stuff like that will explain Erik's past._

_Please feel free to review. Thank you. Oh, and keep reading!_


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